


Young and Beautiful

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hana says the wrong thing to Angela, and jeopardizes their relationship. Lena helps her make amends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young and Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place while Overwatch was still active. Angela (Mercy) and Hana (D.Va) are also an established couple, and since I am bad at facts, this also changes the timeline several times and assumes Hana is both 19 at the time it was still active and was actually a member of Overwatch.
> 
> Title based on "Young and Beautiful" originally by Lana Del Rey. Cover used in the story is by Postmodern Jukebox.

Hana knew she'd _seriously_ fucked up.

It was a natural sense that she'd honed from all her years playing Starcraft, that instinctive feeling that you had made a mistake or a series of mistakes, and were now completely, absolutely _doomed,_ your fate sealed and all further action would only serve to delay it.

But instead of watching her army of Zerg get turned from a killer wave of claws, acids, and spines into a sea of blood and gore with her bases soon to follow, she watched Angela reel back as if she'd just stabbed her in the heart, and twisted the knife just for fun.

She'd joked around with her more times than she could remember, and more than a few of them had been risky, to say the least. But she'd always smiled, nodded her head, or scowled playfully at her, never this look of pure _hurt_.

Hana frowned, her usual cockiness gone. “Angel… I'm sorry.”

Angela closed her eyes. She sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly. “I know you are,” she said.

Hana shuffled out of Angela's office, she locked the door behind her, and that was the last they saw of each other for the rest of that day.

Angela was not a spiteful woman, nor was she very talkative about her personal life. If she spoke to anyone about what happened, they were either mute or took a vow of silence; if other people found out, it wouldn't have been from them.

But of course, people would notice the change in her demeanor, lips would start moving, and conclusions would be made, though they still wanted to get it straight from the source.

Angela was a dead-end; the woman wanted nothing more than to completely dismantle Overwatch's rumour mill, blaming it for all manner of problems it may or may not have had a hand in.

And so they went to Hana.

They were considerate about it. Not so considerate as to forgo asking in the first place, but they waited until all was quiet at base, Angela was still locked away in her office, and it was getting close to time for Hana to get to bed.

She knew she was walking into a trap when she saw all of those agents “coincidentally” passing time in the lounge—the couches, the mini-bar, and the various game tables, consoles, and arcade machines were rarely all occupied unless something big was going down. But she was keen on maintaining her sleep schedule, and she had a feeling she couldn't spend the night in the infirmary.

Hana kept her face down, avoiding eye contact with everyone as she carefully maneuvered her way to the entrance to the bunks. She almost made it, too, until Tracer got off her perch on the arm of one of the couches and intercepted her.

"Hi D.Va!” She said, smiling and waving at her.

Hana nodded once. “Tracer,” she replied, before she sidestepped her and made a dash for the door.

Of course, Tracer got there first in a literal the blink of an eye. She casually rested on one side of the door frame, blocking the way with her body. “So!” she said as Hana slowed to a stop in front of her. “You and Mercy seem to be having a bit of turbulence, I've noticed.”

From the way everyone subtly perked up, lowered the volume on their devices and screens, or looked over their tablets, books, and magazines, they'd _all_ noticed.

“What about it?” Hana replied carefully, looking steamed as hell.

“Just curious, is all,” Tracer replied, shooting her a friendly smile.

Hana scowled. “It's none of your business,” she replied before she tried to force her way through. Unfortunately for her, Tracer had her chrono-accelerator, much longer limbs, and more physical strength on her side, and Hana ended up pushing or pulling at limbs that just would not budge, or sandwiched between limbs  if she tried to crawl through the gaps.

“Can't you just give us a hint, luv?” Tracer asked as she kept her trapped between an arm and a leg.

 _“Why do you all want to know so badly?!_ ” Hana snapped as she pulled herself out and shot Tracer a dirty look.

Her expression softened. “It's just that Mercy's the sweetest, most patient, most kind person we know--cool as a cucumber even when things are well and truly _shambolic--_ and well… we're wondering what pressed her buttons?”

Hana looked away. “It was something I said, alright?" She muttered.

Tracer's eyes widened in realization. “Oh.”

The other agents nodded, their curiosity satisfied. The oblivious and the new recruits asked, “What did she do?”

“She called Mercy old,” someone replied.

Hana blushed and scowled. _“Can I go now?”_

Tracer flattened herself against the door frame. Hana stomped off to her own little sleeping pod amidst the hundreds lining the walls. She climbed in, pulled her knees up to her chest, then manually shut off the lights, willing herself to sleep if only so she could be done with this day already.

* * *

 Some time later, Tracer was back. Hana could tell by the glow of her chrono accelerator, the too-bright light that had woken her up.

“Psst!” She whispered. “D.Va? You awake?”

Hana groaned and groggily pushed herself up on her side. “I am now, thanks to you,” she grumbled.

“Soz,” Tracer said, smiling and holding her hands up in apology.

Hana scowled. “What do you want…?”

“Well, I was wondering what sort of row you two got into, that got you to say what you said? I promise I only want to know so I can help you two patch things up, however I can!”

Hana winced and looked away. “It wasn't an argument...”

Tracer blinked. “It wasn't?”

Hana debated leaving it at that, before she realized the others would inevitably churn up a scenario that was much worse than the reality and cause heaps more problems for her and Angela. She sucked in a breath, sighed, and told her the story.

“I just came back from a mission, nothing but a few protesters we dispersed without having to fire a shot, and I stopped by her office,” she started.

Tracer nodded.

“I asked her if we could...” Hana paused. “… Do some things, but then An—Mercy said, 'Not now, Hana, I'm tired.'”

Tracer nodded again. “And then what happened?”

Hana bit her lip. “Then I said, 'You need a nap first, grandma? Because I can wait.'”

Recounting the incident made her feel terrible, like when she'd lost the first game of a major league tournament. Saying it out loud made her feel even worse, like she'd stabbed Angela through the heart once again. Tracer's open-mouthed staring for several seconds made her feel like she'd masterminded the whole Omnic Crisis.

Tracer eventually shook off the shock. “ _Wow._ That was one heckuva risky joke you pulled.”

Hana blushed. “I didn't know she'd take it so badly,” she mumbled.

“You mean you didn't know?”

Hana glared at her, her face still red. “If I did, then we wouldn't be having this conversation right now, would we?!”

“Right. Soz. But seriously: _how could you not know?”_

“Well maybe if someone pulled me aside and told me, instead of assuming I did, _maybe I would have?”_

Tracer shrugged. “To be fair, since we all knew you two were already doing the diddly--”

Hana swore in Korean. “NO! DC! KICK! ALT+F4, ALT+F4, ALT+F4 **RIGHT NOW,** and never mention that _ever again!”_

Tracer winced sheepishly raised her hands. “… So, anyway, what are you planning to do?”

Hana sighed and turned over on her side. “I dunno. Wait it out and hope she forgives me?”

Tracer frowned. “'Fraid you're going to need a lot more than time for this, luv.”

Hana pulled her pillow out from under her and buried her face in it.

Tracer smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Not to worry, luv, all's not lost yet—and the cavalry's here to help!”

Hana peeked out from her pillow. “And just who _is_ this 'cavalry'?”

“Overwatch, obviously!” Tracer said with a chuckle. “Not every crisis needs something or someone shot at, but they still need heroes to solve 'em!”

Hana tossed her pillow aside and rolled over on her stomach, resting her elbows on the floor of her bunk. “Just tell me what you guys want in return...” she said flatly

Tracer chuckled. “Heroes never ask for anything in exchange for saving the day, you should know that! 'Sides, we've all owed Mercy one at some point, whether she knows it or not; it's the least we can do.”

Hana turned on the lights as she listened to Tracer outline the plan.

* * *

How Reinhardt came into possession of an extremely rare, very old, and _absurdly_ expensive bottle of wine and managed to keep it properly stored until someone else happened to need it, Hana did not know, but she did know was that she better make sure it didn't slip from her sweaty palms or else he would never speak to her ever again.

More importantly, she'd lose about the only olive branch she could extend to Angela.

She stood outside of her office—still locked, with the holographic notice saying that she was not to be disturbed unless it was an absolute emergency that required her immediate attention. She took in deep breaths and tried to calm her beating heart, using the hand holding two wine glasses to press the intercom button, her other arm keeping the rare wine pressed against her body so tight that it wouldn't budge a millimeter.

“ _Link established,”_ Athena said. _“Please identify yourself and state the nature of your business.”_

Hana swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hi Ang—Dr. Ziegler! It's me, Hana. I brought wine…?” She held up the bottle to the screen, label first. “It's supposed to be really rare; I can't even pronounce the name, so it's at least one of those fancy ones, right?” She added lamely.

She felt sweat pour down her back as the console began an optic scan.

She let out a little sigh of relief as the red screen turned blue, and the door to Angela's office slid open with a quiet whoosh. She stepped in before Angela could change her mind.

It was dark inside, no lights but the glow of her holo-screens at her desk way off on the other side of the room. Hana squinted, and made out Angela on her chair, her back turned to her.

[Music began to play.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-aNCBzax8Ec)

_I've seen the world,_  
_Done it all,_  
_Had my cake now..._

Hana carefully walked to her desk, wary of anything that might make her trip. The carpeted floor was clean and free of anything but a minuscule amount of dust particles, but she wasn't taking any chances.

  
_Diamonds, brilliant_ , _a_ _nd Bel Air now._  
_Hot summer nights, mid July_ , _when you and I were forever wild!  
The crazy days, city light_ _s, when_ _you_ _would_ _play with me like a child!_

Hana set the bottle down on her desk, along with the two wine glasses. She bit her lip, debating if she should say something.

The music went into its chorus.  
  
_Will you still love me,_ _w_ _hen I'm no longer young and beautiful?_  
_Will you still love me, w_ _hen I_ _'ve_ _got nothing but my aching soul?_  
_I know you will, I know you will! I know that you will!_  
_Will you still love me, when I'm no longer beautiful...?_

Angela abruptly cut off the music.

“I wonder about us all the time, you know,” she said quietly. “I wonder if what we have is really love, or just a relationship fueled by lust and loneliness, if we're ever going to be together till the very end, or if I'm just going to be an old flame, an experiment, a _fling_ , that time you decided to see if you'd like an older woman.”

She slowly turned around to face her. Even in the dim light, Hana could see that she had been crying, her eyes puffy and red.

“You're young, Hana, and I'm old,” Angela said. “I can tell myself that you're far more mature than most people your age, but at the end of the day, I can't change the fact that we were born a decade-and-a-half apart.”

Hana watched as Angela pulled a cork opener from her drawer, popped open the wine, and poured herself a glass, the liquid reaching a little closer to the brim than it usually should. She gently swirled it, brought it up to her nose and inhaled, then took a sip.

Her lips curled into a smile, however small. “Good vintage, how'd you get it?” She asked.

“Eh, Reinhardt gave it to me, I didn't really bother him for the details,” Hana said as she sat down on one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Angela took a few more sips of her wine, drinking it slowly and savouring every swallow until it was empty. She set it down, then rested her elbows and chin on her desk, eyes on the empty glass. “It's a shame us humans can't be like wine, is it not? Only getting better with age, the older the better.”

“Well that's only if you store it right.”

Angela sighed. “Right.”

Hana quietly filed that as yet another mistake she swore never to make ever again. “Angel…?”

Angela raised her head and looked at her.

“I...”

Hana quickly realized she hadn't actually _thought_ of anything to say beforehand, nor had anyone given her a scrip to go from. She bit her lip, racking her brain for something, Angela patiently looking at her the whole time.

“… You don't need to worry about these things, you know?” She blurted. “It's like stressing over your victory speech when you take the championship title at the World Championship Series before you've even broken into any official tournaments, not some amateur league your friends and some random people from the internet do on the weekends.”

Another awkward silence, before she shot out of her seat and thumped her hands on her desk. “Look, I don't know what's going to happen next year, in five years, or ten, but you know what? _Who does?!_ Who even knows what's going to happen in the next _five seconds?”_

She lowered herself onto the desk, her face level with Angela's. “But what I _do_ know is that _I love you,_ and that _I'm sorry_ that I ever called you... that, and I never, ever wanted to hurt you like I did nor do I _ever_ want it to happen _ever again_!”

She scooted forward and brought their a few inches away, her desperate eyes staring right into Angela's. “So please, could you forgive me...?”

As the cliché went, the silence was only for a few seconds, but felt like an eternity.

Angela smiled. She raised her head and grabbed the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass and a small amount into the other.

Hana pulled back into her seat. “So is that a 'Yes' or a 'No'…?” She asked.

“It's a 'Yes,' provided that one, _you do not ever make reference to my age_ _ **ever again**_ **,** and two, you come back here at oh-eight-hundred-hours sharp,” Angela said as she slid the second glass to her.

“Gonna be in the mood after you get your beauty sleep?” Hana joked as she took the glass into her hand.

Angela only smirked at that. “Be well-hydrated and have a good breakfast beforehand,” she said as she raised her glass. “It's been _far_ too long since we've had any significant amount of time to ourselves.”

They clinked their glasses, and drank.

Hana immediately spluttered her wine back up, choking and gagging, before she swore in Korean. “ _Ugh,_ how do you even drink this stuff?!”

“It's an acquired taste,” Angela purred. “You need to hone it for several years, before you can truly appreciate the experience.”

“Or maybe you just deluded yourself into thinking it's good so you don't realize that you've wasted so much money on this stuff,” Hana grumbled as she put her glass down and carefully pushed it away.

Angela laughed as she set her own glass down and got up from her desk. She walked around behind Hana and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Get some sleep, _hascha_ ,” she muttered into her ear, before she planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “You're _really_ going to need it,” she added as she pulled away.

Hana shivered. She nodded as she stood up from her seat. “Got it. Night, Angel.”

“Night, Hana.”

All was not forgiven, but she was getting there, and Hana was fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> "Hascha" is a German pet name, a combination of the word for "bunny" or "hare" plus a term that means "honey" or "sweetheart" in English. You could say Angela is calling Hana her "honeybun."


End file.
